


Win For Losing

by 1shinymess (magpie4shinies)



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: M/M, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-26
Updated: 2011-10-26
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:35:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie4shinies/pseuds/1shinymess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Sam is a little obvious, but the man has neon circuits. Neon. Circuits. How is he not supposed to stare?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win For Losing

**Author's Note:**

> Light power play.
> 
> Post-Legacy, Kevin is alive and the Grid rebuilt. Also, this is self-edited, and I know I missed some things, so feel free to let me know! Constructive criticism is always welcome.

Sam hadn't meant to jump straight from speculative glances to sex, it just kind of happened the way things always seemed happen to him.

If Tron didn't have such sexy hands, maybe they could've sat down and talked things out. But the minute Sam got the green light from the Program, he'd done what he'd been imagining doing for months, Grid-time _and_ Up-time.

Sam had never intended to give the game away in the first place, but it was hard to keep his face from betraying him Tron pulled those insane acrobatic moves that highlighted his legs, ass and arms -- and his hands, those eloquent fingers lit by circuits, spread to catch his returning lightdisc.

Tron in battle was the most aggressively attractive thing Sam had ever seen, even when the battle was a simple sparring session designed to teach the five programs he fought against how to cooperate to disable a superior opponent.

Sam thought he'd covered his blatant ogling quickly enough, but this was Tron. He'd been able to multi-task processes since before Sam was born and was accustomed to taking in scanning everything around him for potential threats.

He easily sent the remaining two programs to sleep mode while Sam got his libido under control and Sam smiled brightly at him, confident his expression firmly said _cool story, bro!_ and not _take me now, you manly man._ "That was amazing, Tron!"

Tron grinned back at him and waved before he set about waking he programs up.

Sam took a breath, silently told himself that the circuits up Tron's arm and through his fingers didn't actually leave an afterimage of light in the air behind his wave and hopped the ledge to help him.

They got the programs functioning again and Sam stood back and watched Tron evaluate their performances while he tried not to stare too obviously.

After sending them off with their assignments, Tron pulled out his baton and turned to Sam. "I'm done here. Would you accompany me to End of Line for some energy?"

Sam blinked, eyebrows arching faintly at the uncharacteristic choice for winding down, but shrugged and pulled out his own baton. _And maybe while we're at it, I can suck it off of your fingers?_

 _...oh, God, I need to get laid._ Sam tried to ignore the way his brain teased him with the phantom taste of ozone and the sort-of-green-tea flavor of his favorite code of energy and rezzed a lightcycle.

~

They headed to the rebuilt End of Line and bellied up to the bar. It was packed, but they have a nice bubble of space around them. Some programs are still wary of Sam's User-cooties, and programs vary between fearful and awe-filled respect around Tron. Sam was leaning sideways into the bar, facing Tron. There are three empty glasses with the residue of energy on them stacked in the smallest possible pyramid, and he's holding his fourth drink.

Tron was sitting at the bar, half turned toward Sam with a vaguely indulgent look that normally disturbed Sam for reminding him of Alan. Tonight, though, Sam was overcharged and didn't care. It was a bit like being high, where his body was humming with potential motion but he didn't have the disconnect between himself and the world around him he'd experienced the few times he'd smoked pot.

Somewhere around his third shot of energy, he decided it was a good idea to talk about his ideas for the future. "I really think we should talk about upgrades," Sam said. "I've been thinking about bringing it up to Dad."

Tron paused with his own shot of energy halfway to his mouth. "Ah? What kind of upgrades?"

Sam shrugged. "Virus and spyware definitions, definitely: easier to spot threats. We might need to update your code to _register_ spyware, now that I think about it. Other than that? I don't know. I wanted to give you some more tools and increase the resources you have available. Just continuing what me and Dad already started when we amped up your personal security."

Tron's eyebrows inched up and Sam's eyes widened. "Not that you aren't doing a great job defending against outside threats! I mean, you do, totally, but..."

Tron tilted his head curiously. "Go on."

Sam licked his lips and shrugged, leaning forward to grab Tron's arm. "Well, I kind of thought...we could link the Grid up to the rest of the world. If it was something we all agreed on. If that happens, you definitely need to have those tools and be comfortable with them. If it doesn't, then no harm to have them, right?"

Tron turned to face Sam, forcing Sam to loosen his grip. The feel of Tron's arm moving smoothly under his fingers was the smooth, giving feel of his suit broken up by the heat of his main circuit and Sam's eyes automatically fall to where his hand now rests over it. The circuit leads lower, the inch remaining of Tron's wrist and further still, to his hand, where it split into three slightly thinner lines of hot light down his thumb and first two fingers.

They really were lovely hands. They were a bit larger than Sam's, palms a bit wider and fingers a bit longer, but they were well proportioned for his body, and the length and thickness of his fingers put all sorts of dirty thoughts into Sam's head to guilt about later.

Tron's arm flexed, reminding Sam that time was actually passing while he was being Super Obvious Guy and he realized all at once, in the way that he did when he could tell something was about to go wrong in high-speed, that if Tron hadn't known Sam was a giant creep before, he had to know now.

Sam decided to make it worth it, at least, and took the scenic root back to dignity and self-control, following the circuits back to the thicker, solid line up Tron's wrist, briefly disappearing under Sam's lingering hand and higher over his well-defined bicep and deltoid. Without the disruption of the armor he typically wore when in battle, real or sparring, Sam could really appreciate the effect of the bluish line of light over Tron's battle-hardened (well-coded?) muscles.

The line of light dead-ended at about his collar bone, and went either up, to a small circle, or down. While Sam wouldn't have minded following the line lower, he had a feeling Tron wouldn't suffer that, even from a User, in such a public forum, and looked up to take his punishment like a man who knows he couldn't escape if he had a parachute.

Tron's face was blank.

Sam offered a tentative smile, trying to convey some sense of _sorry I'm a creep but you're super hot so can you blame me?_ and was uncertain of his success. He removed his hand.

Tron turned back to the bar and waved at the bartender. He was obviously busy with a knot of ten programs, so Tron merely dropped a fistful of Bits -- definitely more than their tab -- and pushed off from the bar.

Sam stepped back as well, away from the bar and edging away from Tron when Tron's hand lashed out and grabbed his shoulder.

Sam stared at the program, wide-eyed, and wondered if perhaps staring at the program's chest for a microcycle was a bad idea. Or a good idea if he didn't mind being a creep, but bad when Tron knew he was looking.

After a short moment, Tron smiled tightly. "I'll take you back to your apartment."

Sam nodded slowly, drafting a quick email to his dad letting him know to send Alan and Quorra his love, and to take care of Marvin if Tron (understandably) killed him.

He stored it in his private folder and followed Tron to the street. When he hesitated at the door, Tron rezzed a lightcycle and gave Sam a firm head shake _no_ when Sam reached hesitantly for his own baton.

Sam got on behind Tron, nervous and really aware of the firm press of Tron's back and the alternating warm-hot of his suit over his circuits.

Their helmets rezzed automatically when the cycle started to move. _Part of the design, huh, dad?_ Sam wondered with vague hysteria. _Nice. Safety first._

 _...God, my brain is all over the place worse than normal. I think I'll stop after two next time._

Sam's apartment was in a building like a skyscraper, but the inside looked the same as his converted shipping container Up-world because he programed it that way, to give him something familiar as he was playing massive amounts of catch up in this post-Reintegration Grid.

He should feel safe, surrounded by his things, but when Tron leads him into the facsimile of his apartment, he just feels more nervous that they don't even have witnesses here. "Tron, I'm -- I feel like I should apologize, and also explain something about hum- I mean, Users--"

"Be quiet," Tron said. He didn't snap, or glare, or use any intimidation tactics whatsoever. His voice was just its normal, everyday _I'm in Charge Here_ tone.

Sam had been hoping he hadn't realized how weak he was to it, but judging from his thoughtful expression, today was Sam's day for giving all sorts of embarrassing secrets away.

For all the world -- or the Grid -- looking like he did when he was facing a crafty opponent in the Arena, Tron lifted his right hand to eye-level.

Sam's eyes flicked to it as a matter of habit and instinct and then back, but whatever had moved over his face in that fraction of a cycle must have answered Tron's questions because he now wore the satisfaction Sam usually only saw when he'd figured out how to take down his opponent.

Then Tron stepped forward and reached toward Sam's face, and Sam's attention wavered, trying to watch the approaching hand without being able to drop his eyes: Tron's expression was smug, now, and that just wasn't something Sam's ever really _seen_ , not like this, anyway, and it was oddly hypnotizing.

Tron seemed confident that Sam wouldn't go anywhere as he moved up on him, and made no motion to grab at Sam to hold him in place. Sam, for his part, didn't prove him wrong. Something about that smug satisfaction on Tron's face was predatory, almost: nothing he'd ever considered on Alan's features before. It transfixed him, held him in place as Tron closed the small distance between them and placed two fingers over Sam's mouth.

No. _On_ Sam's mouth. And then applied gentle, but very suggestive pressure.

"Open." Tron's voice was still the same, still steady despite the situation which had to be radically outside of his core programing.

No, it was Sam who was coming apart, who automatically opened his mouth and shuddered uncontrollably as the tips of Tron's fingers pushed past his lips. The taste was unlike anything else, except perhaps some strange combination of wax and a little copper off of the latex-like texture of the suit.

His fingers were very warm in Sam's mouth, warmer than any skin he'd ever taken in. Heat from the circuits along the tops of his fingers transfered through the scant space between them to his teeth like some kind of permeable tease.

Sam's eyes opened slowly. This was so beyond what he knew to expect right now. At least he could be (mostly) certain he wasn't influencing Tron into doing this: after Clu's hack-aganza, Sam and Kevin had put their heads together and made Tron's master copy more secure than the Pentagon's protected servers (literally, since Sam still had plans from his most recent in-and-out job with the G-men)(he didn't tell his dad about that).

Tron's expression softened faintly at whatever emotion Sam was wearing on his sleeve this time. "It is fine, Sam Flynn," the program murmured.

Feeling greatly daring, Sam sealed his lips around Tron's first two fingers and sucked gently on the fingertips in his mouth.

They both moaned.

Eyes wide, Sam dared to suck harder, pulling more of Tron's fingers into his mouth, and then he reached up and grabbed his wrist and tugged it a little lower, so Sam could pull back a hair, duck his head and run his tongue directly over the circuits along the back of Tron's fingers.

Tron surged forward and Sam's grip tightened, holding him back even while lust surged down his spine like another shot of high-grade distilled energy. Just -- Jesus, Tron's _face_ , tight enough to be a glare if he didn't look so needy, if he didn't look like he wanted to be sucking and fucking Sam at the same time--

Sam whimpered around the digits in his mouth, light suit painfully tight over his groin at this point, and Tron pulled back, rolling his wrist to break Sam's grip, pulling away from Sam's mouth and holding his other hand up at chest level, keeping them that crucial six inches apart.

Tron's voice was hoarse. "Remove your pants."

Sam blinked. "Oh, fuck. Uh. OK." _Pants. Right. How do they work?_ It took him a moment to remember.

 _...but light suits don't unzip,_ Sam thought pathetically, as his brain scrambled to start working properly despite his lust and the fast pulses of energy racing through his system. He finally remembered what light suits _could_ do on the Grid, and derezzed the whole thing. "Oh, thank God."

Tron hummed appreciatively, drawing Sam's eyes back to his, and then he set his hand on Sam's chest and herded him backwards until he fell back onto his couch.

Sam watched him round his dangling legs over the edge of the couch curiously and quickly shifted to the middle of the cushions when Tron shifted to kneel and he realized what he was aiming to do.

Tron dropped to the couch, legs spreading to either side of Sam's abdomen, the firm curve of his ass pressing against Sam's exposed erection.

"This is a great plan," Sam said, trying desperately to ignore need to rut against the heat and texture of him. "I like this plan."

"I thought you might," Tron muttered. "Always staring, Sam Flynn. Did you truly think I didn't see?"

Sam flushed a deeper red from mingled lust and humiliation, and then lust surged sharply as Tron rocked _back_ , and Sam whimpered, eyes slamming closed as he tried not to come all over himself and Tron.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he gritted out, taking in air through his grimace of determination, once the potential of orgasm had faded to a slightly more manageable level.

"You didn't say anything!" Tron growled, and Sam's eyes snapped open at that strangely aggressive, assertive sound outside of the arena, and was pinned by Tron's narrowed storm-blue eyes. "Didn't want to make you _uncomfortable_ , but I wanted. I want."

Sam understood that well enough. "Yeah, yeah, man, me too."

" _I know_." Tron's hands slid up from their restraining grip on Sam's shoulders to his neck, his jaw, and one spread wide over the side of his face while Tron pressed three of his fingers, two of which are still damp, to Sam's mouth. " _Suck_."

The tone of his voice just then sounded more like _blow me_ and Sam automatically opened his mouth and sucked those beautiful, distracting fingers as deep as he could take them while part of him panicked. _I don't know what to do! The parts are different!_

Sam took as much of the program in as we could while distracted, searching for cues while he learned the texture of Tron's gloved fingers. Tron's circuits were glowing much brighter than they ever had before and he shuddered as Sam's jaw worked under his other hand.

The movement transfered to Sam in a wave of undulating heat and pressure against his cock and Sam moaned around Tron's fingers and closed his eyes. Instinct had brought him this far: hopefully it would serve a little further.

Sam carefully relaxed his arms, laying back fully on the couch and taking a moment when the shift settled Tron against his groin more fully. When the stars faded from the backs of his eyes, Sam grabbed Tron's wrist once more, altering the angle at which he held his arm faintly, but enough that Sam could lick over the hot copper-and-ozone circuits again.

Tron let out another desperate growling moan and Sam whined around his fingers as his unintentional responses rubbed against his dick in a stuttering rhythm before he forced himself to keep going. He pulled Tron's arm back a little and then urged it forward in a mini-thrust, and let his teeth brush the thin circuit along his index finger.

Tron was a fast learner, and Sam got the chance to map out his entire back with his tongue in his quest to clean him up, so in the end, they both won (several more times that millicycle and twice the next morning).

**Author's Note:**

> This has been well scrubbed, hopefully, but it was originally posted on the [Tron Kink Meme](http://tronkinkmeme.livejournal.com/3950.html?thread=2531438#t2531438).


End file.
